Miscalculation
by Cylor
Summary: MegaTokyo, 2032. Brian J. Mason's plan had been perfect except for one, single, fatally flawed assumption.


**Author's notes:**

-Bubblegum Crisis and all related characters are the property of Artmic/AIC.

-This was sort of a fun little "what if" piece written in late 1998, intended to explore the consequences of Mason's death in the original BGC OVA series from a... different perspective.

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**MISCALCULATION**

* * *

"It was you, after all... Sylia!"  
Never had Brian J. Mason felt so triumphant as he did in that moment. This was the moment of decision. Sylia Stingray, the symbol of his most lofty ambitions and darkest dreams, was literally in his grasp; the armored hand of his battlesuit gripping her head. Eye to eye, staring at her exposed face, and seeing reflected in her dark eyes the knowledge they both shared in that moment. That he could crush her skull in an instant, and the game would be over.  
But that was not his intent. Such a victory would be hollow, at best. Without the meaning and the majesty he so desired. In short, it was not the conclusion he'd planned.  
So instead, he paused to allow her the final move.  
She wasted no time, and Mason's moment of apparant victory passed with the stroke of Sylia's right hand, neatly severing the jugular vein in his neck with her blade. However, Mason felt none of the horror and shock he would once have associated with such a sensation. If anything he welcomed it -- his sense of exhultation actually doubled, if possible, and he would have laughed aloud had it not been for the blood rushing through his neck and mouth, pouring out before him like a river. Sylia withdrew her blade and Mason fell forward, the life leaving his body in a euphoric rush. As his body died, his plans materialized before him with an almost tangible substance.  
A smile crossed his face as his head dropped to the pavement, his body having collapsed completely beneath him. In the reflective surface of the pool formed before him by his own blood, he caught a glimpse of Sylia, standing over him with an utterly dispassionate gaze. No hint of remorse or regret. No weakness. Only victory, pure, majestic and incomparably beautiful.  
When next I open my eyes, he told her silently, I will be your equal. The very thought sent a thrill of exhilheration through his body, the last physical sensation he experienced. Wait for that day, the day when I will show you the true face of the victor.

* * *

Somewhere between a second and a year later, Mason did indeed open his eyes.  
And was greeted by a deeper sense of darkness, of emptiness, of non-existence than his imagination had ever been capable of conjuring. Confusion, disorientation, and a lurking sense of fear behind it all... this was not what he'd expected.  
"Of course not, you arrogant little man."  
Mason whirled around in space, searching for the source of the words...  
...And just as his befuddled mind placed the voice, the face came into view. It seemed to loom over him like some sort of deity, surrounding him with its inescapable likeness and the impossibility of it all, at once.  
Mason's eyes and mouth hung open in genuine shock and horror, now. As he took in the horribly, horribly familiar face, with its gaunt cheekbones, hair grown long more out of carelessness than style, distinctive moustache, and the piercing eyes alight with a terrible and knowing sense of dark amusement.  
Mason was truly at a loss for words. His expectations were gone from his mind now, as he stared into the eyes of a man he'd killed ten years earlier. His mind screamed out that this could not be real, that it was impossible... but his every sense told him that it was, and the contradiction posed a very real threat to his sanity, a word for which he was rapidly forgetting the meaning.  
Then the face of Katsuhito Stingray laughed, openly mocking him.  
"What does impossibility matter to a man who would attempt to place himself into a machine? What bearing did reality ever have on your grand schemes?" he cackled, dismissing the crowning jewel of all of Mason's plans -- plans that had been made possible by this same poor, dead fool--!  
And then an absolutely horrifying thought came to him, but the dead scientist was already shaking his head, evidently able to read Mason's thoughts before he spoke them.  
"I'm not God. But I may as well be, as far as you're concerned. For you threw away your life, placing your trust in a technology I'd created. Unfortunately for you, you didn't understand it, you fool. And so, Brian Mason, your eternal torment shall be the knowledge that your life was wasted crafting intricate plans that were ultimately for nothing." The gaunt face smiled, and for a wild second Mason thought he glimpsed a body riddled with bullet holes. "What a pathetic waste you were. You will never know her secret, now. But my vision shall yet be realized... You died to unwittingly fulfill my purpose, and not your own."  
The words were the antithesis of Mason's very being. He couldn't let them pass, he had to deny them, to invalidate them.  
"DAMN YOU!" He screamed at the leering apparition. "Is this some kind of JOKE! Are you trying to tell me that I'm in HELL? What do you take me for!" He spat at the face, which continued to chuckle in grim amusement, reminding him more and more of Quincy by the second... "My plans were PERFECT! I let her kill me, so that she could be the instrument of my rebirth! With my mind and the other body, we'll rule the Earth, together! IMMORTAL PERFECTION REALIZED! ALL OF THEM shall bow before us, ESPECIALLY that smug BASTARD, Quincy, and..."  
Mason's voice trailed off into silence, for a second voice had now joined Stingray's in mocking him with their laughter. But this one was deeper, and more musical. Even more horrifically familiar, and infinitely more disturbing.  
He turned to see a figure walking toward him, through the nothingness. He stared in utter disbelief, his mind reeling from a far greater blow than even Stingray had dealt it... for it was HIM. Moving with the strength and the grace he'd so wished to possess, a style and poise that raised him to HER level.  
Truly, the equal of perfection, the flip side of the coin that foretold the fall of Mankind.  
"How...?" Was the only word that Mason could form.  
"Did you truly think that programming me with your memories would allow your consciousness to live on in my body?" the living god asked, his expression one of dark amusement. "How laughable. I may have your thoughts, but you cannot transfer a soul from flesh into circuitry as you would a program from one computer to the next. It is not so tangible a thing as that. Your arrogance--" he paused, and chuckled softly "--or rather, our arrogance, has been your ultimate downfall. You were so blinded by the promise of power and immortality that you failed to consider your human shortcomings." He smiled, and Mason felt the last shreds of rational thought slipping away from him. "Oh, don't worry, I will go on to realize your dreams. But it will be me, NOT you, who will accomplish these things."  
"But... you ARE me," Mason whispered desperately, even though everything he'd been shown and told demonstrated that it was not true.  
The god before him threw back his head and laughed, as the grinning visage of Stringray loomed over them both.  
"My name is LARGO!" he declared loudly, seemingly for the purpose of drawing a distinction between himself and Mason. "I am the maker of the new world, that which you envisioned but will now never see." He grinned darkly, taking a step forward as he did. "Now, hand it over to me!"  
He reached forward, and an inhumanly strong hand plunged into Mason's chest, smashing through his ribs and pushing them aside with no effort at all. Mechanical fingers closing around his wildly beating heart and ripping it from his chest, holding it up for its former owner to inspect.  
To Mason's final horror, he did NOT die.

* * *

_Written by Corey Smith  
_


End file.
